


Tofurkey

by UrsulaAngstrom



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:33:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5248430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaAngstrom/pseuds/UrsulaAngstrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Thanksgving SLASH story I wrote on 11-19-15.  Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tofurkey

Tofurkey

 

A Starsky & Hutch Thanksgiving Story by Ursula Angstrom

This story is dedicated to my new friend Kate (AKA: CrazyKater).

 

“TOFURKEY?” Starsky scoffed.

The scathing intensity of his partner’s incredulity could have melted paint off the Torino.

“Try it. It’s good," Hutch said, handing Starsky a festively Thanksgiving-themed paper plate that was on sale as the Featured Holiday Item in Aisle 7 of Frank’s Market.

A slice of imitation “something” that was the color of poultry white meat with the texture of a filet-of-squid with no visible remnants of suction cups was sitting on a colorful drawing of a turkey.

“This is sacrilegious, “ Starsky said looking at the tofurkey like Hutch was a cannibal who had just served him the internal organ of a human sacrifice.

“It looks like a duodenal ulcer, “Starsky complained.

Hutch responded with a raucous outburst of head-tossing laughter.

“It does not,” Hutch amiably scolded. “You heard that medical terminology on reruns of Ben Casey.”

“Dr. Kildare,” Starsky sassed. “Ben Casey was a brain surgeon. Dr. Kildare was a general practitioner. You don’t get ulcers in your brain, Blintz. Although I may be the first if you keep this up.”

“Whatever,” Hutch chided. “Taste it.”

“You’re deranged!” Starsky said shoving the plate of “whatever” into Hutch’s hands. "That’s mutant food! Some weird science experiment gone wrong in a food factory.”

People waiting in line to try a free sample of the New Age Delicacy featured in the Deli Department laughed at Starsky’s culinary paranoia.

“What IS tofu anyway,” Starsky ranted, exasperated by Hutch’s gastronomic elitism. “Is it animal, vegetable or mineral?”

“Vegetable. Tofu is made out of soybeans.”

“And what?” Starsky persisted. “Elmer’s glue?”

Hutch, and skeptical strangers nearby, cracked up laughing. 

“It looks like paste. A lump of paste you can cut like meatloaf. It’s not flaky!”

“But you are,” Hutch teased, pretending to catch invisible pieces of stuff floating in the air…

“There are little flecks of Starsky floating to the ground like snowflakes. You’re unraveling, pal.”

“Because you are driving me insane!” Starsky shouted, throwing both arms up in the air gesticulating in disgust with his hands.

“New Yorker,” Hutch impishly stage-whispered.

Starsky’s Brooklyn accent intensified when he lost his temper.

Right now his partner was acting like a volatile New York cab driver with road rage stuck in rush-hour traffic on the way to the airport the day before Thanksgiving or Christmas right after a nine-car pile up happened on a major thoroughfare—in the middle of a bridge.

“Watch it, Slim,” a burly bald man with muscles giving birth to other bulging muscles in his arms warned. “I’m from Boston. People make fun of Massachusetts accent’s too,” 

“Why?” a flirtatious woman waiting in line asked the hulking body builder. “You sound like one of the Kennedy brothers.”

“I wish!” the weightlifter gushed, smiling at the bespectacled woman. “Aren’t you sweet.”

“You want it, you eat it,” Starsky said walking away from the health food nut he loved.

Otherwise he might say something he would REALLY regret.

Enjoying the view of Starsky strutting down the aisle towards the bakery wearing his tightest pair of faded blue jeans Hutch used the edge of the white plastic fork to cut another small portion off the piece of tofurkey Starsky did not want.

“It’s tender,” Hutch murmured, talking with his mouth full.

“Of course it’s tender. It’s goo!” Starsky said, glaring at his partner as he opened one of the clear plastic doors that protected the doughnuts like a sneeze guard on a salad bar. 

“I miss delis in New York,” Starsky sighed. “They are the best in the world. Whether they are Kosher or not.”

The wistful expression on his partner’s face was poignant as he chose a tempting selection of doughnuts and pastries he put in the largest box he could find to bring to the cops on duty at Metro.

For once, they had three days off around Thanksgiving IF, no one committed a murder. They were on call for Homicide this Thanksgiving. They would be on duty Christmas Eve and Christmas Day this year.

Starsky and Hutch were praying for peace in Bay City Wednesday, Thursday and Friday this week. 

But it was only Tuesday night at 7:30 p.m. Mayhem happens without warning.

If they could cross their toes and still walk in sneakers and cowboy boots they would.

How Starsky managed to walk in jeans THAT tight never ceased to amaze Hutch.

Resisting the temptation to caress his partner’s luscious ass in public made Hutch feel like he was in danger of spontaneous combustion.

“Open a New York style deli in Bay City,” Hutch suggested. “Educate the unenlightened palates of deprived Californians. Our tongues will thank you.”

“I should!” Starsky replied eagerly. 

His partner’s enthusiasm was contagious. Hutch fervently hoped Starsky would be so captivated by his own imagination that he would actually DO what he was daydreaming about right now. 

The ordeal Starsky endured recuperating from being shot in the back three times by assassins hired by loathsome mobster James Marshall Gunther had been an arduous comeback.

Starsky worked with relentless determination to be reinstated to the BCPD. He achieved that goal over a year and a half ago with Hutch’s help, support, and steadfast love.

They had finally become lovers four months ago. No more fuck buddy dalliances with each other while they pursued women they didn’t care about as deeply as they cared about each other.

Me and Thee became Us as Starsky’s recuperation dragged on and on for what felt like an eternity. But in the midst of all that turmoil they realized they didn’t need anyone but each other. The depth of their feelings intensified until they couldn’t imagine spending the rest of their lives with anyone else.

Why they were not able to realize that sooner still baffled them.

They had emerged from that harrowing time certain they would be together always. Where didn’t matter.

“We could call it Delicacies,” Hutch suggested imagining them working together as shopkeepers.

“That would be misleading and plagiarism,” Starsky insisted pointing at the sign advertising the New Age Delicacy Hutch was eating while they talked. “Frank and Nedra thought of that play on words first. I’d feel rotten if I stole that idea and registered it as a trademark first.”

“No one owns the word ‘delicacies’, Starsk. Whoever trademarks or incorporates under a given name first has the proprietary right to exclusively use that moniker with limited and specific legal exceptions.”

“Yadda, yadda, yadda, lawyerspeak,” Starsky grumbled. “I don’t like devious double-talk. And ‘Delicacies’ sounds like we’d be selling lingerie. We’re not that kinky. But we could probably braid dough in a different way and make a new doughnut called Loopholes.”

Starsky’s vivid imagination was like a kaleidoscope. Colorful, ever-changing, and fascinating to his smitten partner.

“Delis need pastries. Go for it!” Hutch encouraged Starsky.

“When we retire,” Starsky decided.

“Okay.”

“You sound disappointed,” Starsky brooded. He was familiar of every nuance of Hutch’s moods and facial expressions.

Hutch had quit trying to fool Starsky. It never worked even when he was arrogant enough to think it did. So why bother?

Hutch was finally convinced that Starsky loved him ‘As Is’--despite Hutch’s penchant for self-improvement projects that waxed and waned plentifully over the years.

Shrugging, Hutch admitted, “I get tired of being a cop. You don’t. Nothing new about that.”

“Remember what happened the last time we resigned. Thugs kept shooting at us anyway. Cops are allowed to shoot back with impunity if they can prove it was justifiable homicide due to self-defense or defending innocent bystanders under attack,” Starsky said. “With our luck the deli we open will be robbed the first week the store is in business.”

“Our karma IS fickle,” Hutch agreed, laughing.

Tired of the bland tofurkey Hutch tossed the uneaten remains into the trashcan he saw behind the bakery case that contained decorative cakes in all sizes and shapes.

The dazzled clerk smiled back at the handsome blond man who quickly slipped in and out of the gap between the upright doughnut case and the long, rectangular cake display cases.

Once upon a time, pretty little Miss Hairnet’s flirtatious; “Can I help you?” would have made Starsky jealous because Hutch wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to flirt with her.

Not anymore.

Hutch made her sulk by blithely saying, “No, thanks” and walked away.

Enjoying the view of his lover’s cute ass in those sandy corduroy jeans Starsky gloated as he salaciously whispered, “You’re all mine now.”

“Forever,” Hutch vowed, smiling wickedly too.

“We’ve got a lot to be thankful for, Hutch.”

Draping his arm around Starsky’s shoulders as Starsky looped his arm around Hutch’s waist, Ken said, “As long as we have each other, we’ve got everything, Starsk. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“This is gonna be the happiest Thanksgiving yet,” Starsky predicted.

END


End file.
